


And Venus Was Her Name

by Elfflame



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: daily_deviant, F/F, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-13
Updated: 2009-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-19 11:12:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfflame/pseuds/Elfflame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She will do anything to have her back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Venus Was Her Name

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song “Venus,” but don’t let the title fool you, this is no lighthearted fic. Pay attention to the strong warning for the non-con. It’s not graphic, but it does deal with the mental processes of the victim. Please be mindful if this is an issue for you. The story itself is born from an evil little RP idea that came to me and that Wolfish_cat indulged. Thank you to Ceria for the beta-job. :) And one more notch on my D_D fic list—my first femslash fic here at D_D.

**Then**

“Avada Kedavra!”

The green light surrounds her, and she looks away even as she hears the soft flump of the man as he falls to the ground. The terror has frozen her in place, and she is sure that she is next. Instead, the woman-- _Death Eater oh my god it’s Bellatrix Lestrange why didn’t I join Padma in the DA I want to go home don’t touch me please I don’t want to die_ \--grabs her wrist.

“Stay still, girl. Unless you wish to be splinched!”

She see the wide, terrified, dead eyes of the man she was servicing as Bellatrix Apparates her away from the dirty alley.

«¤»

 **Now**

Bodies everywhere. Blood. _She_ should be here to glory in it, but she is not, and Venus swears that she will kill her mistress’s murderer. _Not my daughter, you bitch!_ The words will ring in her ears until her mistress returns.

Everyone here thinks she is still Morag and leaves her be, discounting her as a danger, but they are sadly mistaken, and will come to regret it. Her mistress has made her something more. Something better than she ever was when she was plain, mousy Morag.

But without her mistress, she is less than she could be. She is unmarked. Unfinished. This must be remedied.

As soon as she can, she Apparates back to the Manor. The mistress made provisions to keep anyone out in case they were found, and Venus is glad of it. She knows her mistress never believed their Lord might fail in his fight against Potter. It was unthinkable. But he has, and because they have lost, she must be careful.

The library is just as she left it. But the books she wants now are different from those her mistress had her study before the fight. She does not want to raise an in inferius. She wants her mistress whole and hale.

She needs Bella back.

«¤»

 **Then**

Locked in a room alone is worse, almost, than being with her. At least when Bellatrix is visible, Morag can watch her so that knows what to expect next. But here, alone, waiting for Bellatrix to return and announce her fate, she is terrified. Her wand is gone, and she is unable to Apparate through the wards that surround the place where the woman has brought her…is she to be a sacrifice?

She wishes now that she had let her mother transfer her to Beauxbatons instead of running away. At least there she would be safe, away from all this death; from a too-short future she can likely count in hours on one hand.

But if she thinks being alone is bad, it is far worse when Bellatrix returns. There is no escaping her fate, whatever she tries, and the spell the Death Eater uses to make herself a temporary cock drowns Morag in terror when she realizes what will come next.

Her struggles are easily subdued with a spell, as Bellatrix cackles at her fear, obviously loving the effect she has on her captive. And even more when she presses inside Morag and discovers the still-existing membrane there.

“A virgin whore? How perfect.” Bellatrix’s grin is maniacal, and Morag shivers at the look, offering her anything—anything but that.

“Oh, but this is exactly what I want, pretty thing. You should be grateful I would lower myself even to touch you.”

When Bellatrix breaches her, it is painful. Both a mental and physical pain that she knows will never leave, even if the scars are given a chance to heal. She will never recover. Not from this.

«¤»

 **Now**

She lies in her mistress’s bed, fingers stroking over her clit as she remembers. Remembering the blood and pain they have shared together, and aching for it to return.

Past and present merge, and she can almost feel Bella breach her again, as painful as ever, but welcome now the way it was not the first time her mistress took her.

She finds her terror from that time silly now. Her mistress has been so good to her. Has helped her understand her place in the world—beneath her. She has shown her that Mudbloods are to be hunted down like the vermin they are, their blood fit for nothing but to water the ground. And that halfbloods like Morag should be grateful when a pureblood like her mistress pays her any attention.

Her breasts ache for her mistress’s touch, even as she tugs at the rings there, remembering her own cries the night Bella pierced them. It is not enough, though. The pain she manages to give herself is just too shallow. She cannot be whole until Bella returns to her.

Unsatisfied, she slides from the bed, nude, and begins her search anew.

«¤»

 **Then**

There had been no escaping her, even after. Bellatrix hadn’t seen fit to rape her again, though. At least, not immediately. Morag discovered that Bellatrix actually seemed to be interested in her abilities with a wand.

The room Bellatrix had left her in was well furnished with antiques, and a large, lush bed draped in velvet. Better than she was used to in her Muggle, middle-class home with her parents. But that didn’t make it any less a jail. And it didn’t make the bed any less foreboding. Just looking at it made her ill. She took to sleeping on the chair near the window on the nights when she managed to sleep at all.

When Bellatrix had handed back her wand and taunted her into attacking her with it, Morag had resisted at first, sure that the woman was only goading her to use it as an excuse to hurt her again. It had taken a great deal of goading before she’d finally used it in anger, thoughts of escape drowned by the thought of hurting the woman who’d so cruelly abused her. While Bellatrix had laughed, she’d done nothing more dangerous than counter her moves, and seemed especially pleased when Morag had used a slashing spell in her desperation and managed to cut Bellatrix’s cheek in the process.

Bellatrix cast Expelliarmus then, catching her wand before smirking at her. “And who taught you that little spell, girl?”

Confused at the mild reaction, Morag had refused to answer.

Bellatrix had chuckled, then cast Cruciatus on her for refusing, and left her alone in the room once more.

Her confusion grew day by day as she tried to understand what Bellatrix wanted from her. Some days, she was left entirely alone, her only company books and house-elves which delivered food. Other days, Bellatrix would appear, and they would duel again, the fight only stopping once Morag had breeched Bellatrix’s defenses once more. Some days she was punished, others she was not.

But Bellatrix didn’t touch her again. Not then.

«¤»

 **Now**

The spell, when she finds it, is complicated. But not too complicated for a clever Ravenclaw who spent more time in her books than socializing with anyone before her Mistress found her. She knows she can make it work. It will just take time and patience. She has as much as she needs of the first. The second, not nearly as much.

But this cannot be done poorly, so she takes her time. Gathering her ingredients when she is sure she will be safe from prying eyes, taking the few victims she needs for the darkest part of the spell only when the moon is full, and crime at its height, and even then, only Muggles. It wouldn’t do for the Ministry to discover her little secret.

Each night, she rests uncomfortably in her mistress’s bed, knowing how she would be punished for such a presumption, but not caring, so long as she could feel her mistress nearby once more, and aching when she does not.

Nothing she does even comes close to what her mistress can do to her. How her mistress could make her feel with a word, a sharp tug, or a thrust. She has to have her back, so that she can feel whole once more.

«¤»

 **Then**

It wasn’t until a month into Morag’s captivity that Bellatrix tried again. This time, the attempt was far more subtle. More so than Morag had expected her even capable of, mad as the woman was.

They had settled into an uneasy truce, with random battles between them, and occasional discussions of the books Bellatrix would leave for Morag to read. Morag still didn’t trust her or like her by any stretch of the imagination, but she was almost comfortable, for lack of a better term.

The difference came when Bellatrix joined her for her evening meal. Unusual as it was, Morag wasn’t sure what to make of it. Not until her skin grew warm. Warm enough to make her twitch, tugging at her clothes, which she only ever removed now to wash.

“What…what did you do to me?” she asked, the words slurred.

Bellatrix smirked at her. “I just wanted to make you more comfortable, pet.” She scooted closer, and despite herself, Morag felt herself leaning towards the woman. She needed touch, and it was beginning to feel as though anything—hell, anyone—would do.

Bellatrix was quick to seize advantage. “Shall we try this again pet? I find I want to hear those pretty cries of yours once more…”

The words made Morag shiver and close her eyes. “Oh, god…please, no…” She couldn’t seem to pull away, though. Pressing against her made the burn ease, and she set her cheek on Bellatrix’s shoulder, then began to nuzzle it.

She could hear Bellatrix’s laughter in her ears, and felt a shudder run through her body. “Drugged me,” she whimpered. “Please…don’t.”

“Please me, pet, and I will make you my personal project. I will raise you higher than you could ever have dreamed. Refuse me, and I will personally ensure that you watch all of your little friends as they die. Do you understand?”

There was no choice. Tears sprang to her eyes as she nodded, and she flinched only slightly as Bellatrix pulled her chin up and began to kiss her.

Whatever potion Bellatrix had dosed her with made the experience less painful than the first time. But even then, it was still rape. She could feel Bellatrix’s teeth as they marked her skin, her fingers tearing off her clothes even as she bit and nipped at her. In many ways, this time was worse than the first. This time, even though she hated what Bellatrix was doing to her, her body still reacted as though she enjoyed it.

The best she could do was close her eyes and try to pretend she was elsewhere. Except that her body wouldn’t let her. Every touch made her body react, arching into the feelings Bellatrix drew from her.

Nor could she shut out Bellatrix’s words, or the sounds she made. Each making her skin crawl at the depths of the woman’s malevolence.

When Bellatrix penetrated her again, she expected the same pain, but it was far less. And that was almost the worst of it. She needed the pain. Needed to know that her body was rejecting what Bellatrix was doing to her. But it did not, and she couldn’t stop the tears that sprang to her eyes at the knowledge that Bellatrix could do this to her again and again—now she would never be free, and she knew it.

Morag died that night. Venus was born in her place.

«¤»

 **Now**

Everything is in place. Tonight, Bella will return.

It must be tonight, or the ritual will not succeed. Venus knows this. A part of her blames herself for failing in her task, so she has decided to finish the spell the only way she can. Her Mistress will return. The Wizarding World must pay for what it has done.

She begins the chant to the moonless sky, begging the goddesses Eris and Morrigan to bring her mistress back to the land of the living.

She continues to chant, even as she begins to brew the potion that will recreate her mistress. It is a difficult potion, but she knows she can do it. She has practiced with fake ingredients to get the timing down, and knows she will not make a mistake. She wishes she could have tested it first, but this is Bella’s only chance. The year anniversary of Bella’s death is the only day when she can be revived. All she can do is trust that her talent with potions will mean the potion works.

One by one, she pours the ingredients into the cauldron. Adding blood from the victims she has gathered over the past year, finally leaving nothing left but the final ingredient. She looks up at the heavens, sending a last shouted prayer up to the goddesses, then raises her dagger.

The pain when she cuts into her arm is incredible. But for her mistress’s return, she will pay any price. Even this. Another cut, this to the other arm, bleeding freely into the cauldron now. She feels the spell wind around her. Sending a last thought to the goddesses, and a final one to her mistress, Venus raises the dagger, sinking it deep into her breast to finish the spell.

Even as she feels her life ebb, she feels the pull of the magic and smiles. What better way to give her mistress life than to give her own magic to the woman who made her?

It is the last thought Venus ever has.  



End file.
